


Morning Angel

by pencilguin



Series: The Other Mes Live With What They've Got [2]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Fluff, M/M, angel!Hugh, fluff with no set-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 11:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17897510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pencilguin/pseuds/pencilguin
Summary: It's a soft and slow morning and Paul wakes up to find out that – much like humans get bed hair – for angels, bed feathers seem to be a thing.





	Morning Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdqueenenterprise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdqueenenterprise/gifts).



> nerdqueenenterprise requested Angel Hugh AU and Bed Feathers. I actually wrote this last month *coughs* and finally managed to actually proofread and edit it. So - here's the proper thing! <3

Warm rays of sunlight tickled Paul’s nose and he slowly blinked his eyes open. Soft Sunday morning light was streaming in through the slightly opened window along with a gentle breeze and the muffled sounds of the city below. When was the last time he woke up feeling this cozy and peaceful? Probably never. He sighed happily and stretched to shake off the sleep. Maybe heaven was real.

He glanced over to the other side of the bed and a blissful smile spread on his face. Heaven was definitely real, and right there was the living proof. Paul propped himself up on one elbow and watched Hugh’s torso rise and sink with every steady breath he took. He was lying on his stomach, head resting on his folded arms and his face mostly hidden. The large, soft white wings growing out of his back nicely complimented the tone of his skin, of which, as Paul noted with no small amount of satisfaction, plenty was on display among the sheets of his bed right now. In the warm light it looked as if his entire body was glowing. _Maybe it actually is_ , Paul thought.

He spent a few minutes fondly reminiscing the previous night and watching Hugh sleep soundly now. The last few days must have been exhausting for him, so as much as Paul wanted him to be awake right now, he decided to let him sleep and have his well-earned rest. Sleeping Hugh did look absolutely adorable, after all, so the trade-off was acceptable.

He noticed that while Hugh’s short haircut didn’t leave a lot of room for bed hair, the feathers of his wings were sticking out wildly in every direction. He chuckled. They looked even fluffier this way, and he couldn’t resist the urge to touch them, as carefully as possible, so as not to wake Hugh up. He had given his permission before, after all, and not specified a time limit, so Paul assumed that it was safe to do so.

It was _heavenly_. The fuzzy downs were infinitely softer than he could have imagined, like what the softest-looking clouds must feel like to touch, if they actually had a tangible substance that wasn’t just ice crystals in the atmosphere. Even the longer and sturdier feathers were still magical; they gave way and bounced under his touch. Paul wanted to bury his entire face into these wings. He just managed to stop himself, though, as Hugh made a tiny little snoring sound that made his heart skip a beat and then frantically try to make up for it at twice its normal speed.

He wondered if it was painful to have the feathers sticking out all messy like that. It looked uncomfortable. Slowly, gently, he started brushing his hand over the wings in steady motions to smoothen them. The calming effect on himself was immediate and incredibly comforting.

Hugh stirring made him freeze, but he only shifted momentarily, made a small, contented noise, and then stilled again. Tentatively, Paul continued.

He completely lost track of time as the sun outside rose higher and the light changed and intensified. His touch had become slightly more firm and confident, carefully brushing all of the feathers back in place. He got so lost in thoughts eventually that Hugh’s voice startled him.

“Good morning, love.”

Paul stopped in his tracks and looked into his face.

“Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“No, no …” He smiled, and Paul melted. “I woke up on my own.”

Returning his smile, Paul said, “Good morning, then.”

Hugh rubbed his eyes, then glanced over his shoulder at Paul’s hand in amusement. “Are you grooming me?”

Paul could feel his cheeks heat up and withdrew his hand, folded it with the other one in his lap as he sat up.

“I—sorry, I couldn’t resist touching them.”

“You don’t have to stop. It feels very nice.”

Paul smiled hesitantly at him from under his lashes. Hugh yawned and stretched and turned around to lie on his back, all in one fluid motion. Paul very much enjoyed the new view. He let Hugh pull him down for a kiss, finding that even his morning breath tasted unfairly delicious and that a sleepy Hugh’s sloppy kisses might be the most amazing thing ever … although the sensation of Hugh’s fingers firmly curling into his hair was a strong contender, too.

When they at last had to break apart for air—or at least Paul did; he still wasn’t entirely sure about Hugh—Hugh kept their heads close together, his forehead touching Paul’s and his breath brushing against Paul’s lips.

“I’m so happy,” he whispered, “to finally have this. Us.” He smiled. “You. I love you.”

His other hand found the way to Paul’s chest, resting on his heart. Paul wrapped it in his.

“I love you, too, my angel.”


End file.
